


Into Bed

by Trismegistus (Lebateleur)



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: First Time, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 10:56:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10740285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lebateleur/pseuds/Trismegistus
Summary: Sure, he was sharing his shoebox apartment with another human being, but in many ways, it was a whole lot easier than living alone.Hakkai and Gojyo on the night before they set out for the west.





	Into Bed

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in 2002.

It wasn't even as if there was another person in his house—more like a ghost, a polite, well-mannered and quiet ghost who cooked meals, folded precise military corners on sheets, made sure his socks matched, made sure, in fact, that he actually _wore_ multiple sets of the things during the course of a week when he'd been accustomed to stumbling out of bed at noon and recycling last night's pair from the floor.

Sure, he was sharing his shoebox apartment with another human being, but in many ways, it was a whole lot easier than living alone. He always had clean dishes, clean clothes, clean sheets, a clean house. If he brought food home, it was cooked for him. If he brought bills home, they were paid for him, and on time. If he filled ashtrays with cigarette butts, they were emptied for him as soon as his back was turned. He couldn't take women back to his place anymore, but that was just a blessing in disguise.

 _Can't take you home baby, got this roommate, only one room in the whole apartment, be kinda uncomfortable for him, us too probably... Why don't we just go to your place instead?_ And then they'd go to her house, and it was easier to slip out in the morning; women always slept more soundly in their own beds, no one was begging him for breakfast when he got up, or an escort back into town, trying to buy more time with him. He'd stumble home in the morning, wonderfully alone, and sometimes breakfast would be waiting for him, and sometimes Hakkai would still be asleep in his bed, if he made it back early enough.

It wasn't as if Gojyo resented him. Far from it. After all, wasn't it he, Gojyo, who'd taken Hakkai in in the first place? The guy'd just been lying there in the middle of the night, bleeding his guts out into the rain with no one to even give a damn about it. And when his eyes had met Gojyo's, and Gojyo could tell, even through the haze of madness and physical agony, that the guy had known it, that no one in the world could give less of a shit about him... No, there was no way he could _not_ have helped him. 

And when that guy had turned out to be Hakkai, he knew for certain he hadn't been wrong, taking him in like that. Hakkai, who in return for Gojyo saving his life, cooked Gojyo's meals for him and excavated the floor and furniture from beneath mountains of Gojyo's discarded clothing. Hakkai, who on top of being the only person who could stand to live with him, had actually become his friend.

Gojyo didn't resent him at all. There was no way he could.

And yet...

And yet, he was so polite, so damn polite, and so solicitous of Gojyo's needs, that Gojyo felt like he couldn't breathe around the guy, sometimes. He was so polite that he could make you feel like shit for even thinking that you might like to start sleeping in your own bed again, which was why Gojyo had spent the last two years sleeping on a futon near his kitchen table. 

The amazing thing was that Hakkai could do it without one word on the subject being exchanged between the two of them. It was a brilliant strategy, Gojyo had to admit. If Hakkai had actually mentioned _aloud_ that he deserved the bed because he kept Gojyo's apartment livable, Gojyo could have argued that he'd saved Hakkai's _life_ , and besides, he'd been living in this cesspit for years before Hakkai had been around to keep it neat. 

But Hakkai never said anything like that out loud. Still, it was the same every night—"Well, I think I'll head off to bed now. Good night, Gojyo." And then Hakkai would head into the bathroom to brush his teeth or tidy up or do whatever he did to get ready to sleep, and then he'd get _into_ Gojyo's bed in a manner that said, _Of_ course _I'm going to be sleeping here tonight,_ and Gojyo couldn't bring himself to do anything about it. 

Which meant that tonight, which was going to be his last night in his own house for god knew how long, was not going to be spent in his bed. Hakkai'd made sure of that. Gone to bed _extra_ early just to be certain.

"Big day tomorrow. Need to get my rest," Gojyo mimicked bitterly into his drink. 

"What?" said the man sitting next to him.

"Nothing," he muttered, tossed some bills onto the counter, and left. 

It was the end of August and sickeningly humid outside, too humid, almost, for a cigarette. The smoke coiled into the bottom of his lungs and lay there like lead. 

"Ugh," he said in apathetic protest, and staggered off down the street toward home. 

The evening was conspiring against him, and Hakkai had started it by getting into his bed. 

No, that wasn't quite true. _Sanzo_ had started it, by coming to his house and insisting that Gojyo was part of some Heavenly plan to make the world a better place, like he cared. Goku had made it even worse by eating his food and not shutting up, and finally, Hakkai had iced the cake by first agreeing with Sanzo and then getting into Gojyo's bed on what was going to be their last night at home. 

And because Hakkai wasn't going to stay up and play cards with him, and because he wasn't going to get to sleep in his own bed on his _last night_ in his house, he figured he might as well have sex. So he'd headed out to the bars.

First time in a while, but what the hell? He was still a good hand at poker, and if you had the winnings and a pretty face and the right attitude, the women would forget that you'd been neglecting them recently. 

He'd been doing pretty well, making lots of cash, but he'd gone into it irritated, which never helped, and had had too much to drink too fast, which only made it worse. The women seemed more obnoxious than usual, and after a bit it hadn't seemed worth listening to their chirpy, whining voices just for the sake of an orgasm, so he'd left and gone to another bar with plenty of alcohol but no gambling. And he'd had even more to drink there. 

Now he was stumbling back down the street towards his apartment, which he was no longer going to inhabit after tomorrow. He wasn't going to get to sleep in his bed, and he wasn't going to get some hot chick into _her_ bed, either. He was drunk, yes, but all that promised was a hangover tomorrow morning.

He stumbled up to the door, fumbled around in his pockets for his keys. Unlocked the door, went inside, started to light up a pre-bed smoke. Remembered that Hakkai didn't like Gojyo smoking indoors while he was asleep, went back outside. 

Smoked half the cigarette, ashed too hard and knocked the cherry onto the ground. "Fuck," he said, fumbled around with his lighter, was too inebriated to make it work properly. Went back inside and shut the door behind him.

He briefly entertained a drunken hope that Hakkai might have had a change of heart, stumbled over to his bed. Nope, there was Hakkai, curled into a contented ball beneath the window, breathing deeply and evenly in the swollen August night.

Gojyo stumbled to his futon, which Hakkai had thoughtfully unrolled for him in its usual location. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath. "This is my fucking house." And who knew when he'd see it again?

He stumbled back over to his bed and prodded Hakkai in the back. "C'mon, Hakkai," he said. "Get out." Hakkai sighed and settled more deeply into the mattress. 

"Hakkai," he tried again. And then, "Hey, _Hakkai!_ " 

Nothing, and then, "What is it, Gojyo? Is something the matter?"

He swayed, fought to maintain his balance. His head was pounding. "Yeah, somthing's the matter. Get out of my bed."

"Gojyo, it's very late. Please go to sleep."

"Hakkai," he tried again, voice rising dangerously.

"Goodnight, Gojyo," Hakkai said. His voice _sounded_ the same as always, but there was something about the way he said the words which brooked no opposition.

Gojyo admitted defeat and staggered back over to the futon. He was going to feel like _crap_ tomorrow; he could tell now that the buzz was starting to wear off, leaving dull, heavy drunkenness in its wake. 

He lay down, rolled over. Fuck it. Least he could do was get himself cleaned up a little. He heaved himself back up, staggered into the bathroom, turned on the tap, slathered his face with cleanser. Put his hands into the water, scalded them, yanked them away. Tried futilely to turn the cold water tap on; it was stuck. Staggered into the kitchen where both taps worked, rinsed his face. The soap had been on for so long it had started to sting. 

Rinsed again, started to dry his face off with the dishtowel, thought the better of it and staggered back to his futon. Stared blearily at the cursed thing for a few moments. Fuck this. _Fuck this_.

He dragged himself back to the bed. "Hakkai, move. C'mon man. I'm not gonna ask you again." But Hakkai was either asleep, or pretending to be asleep.

"Alright," he said, yanked back the covers, and collapsed onto the mattress next to his friend. He thought for sure that would get Hakkai moving. But he'd forgotten that for all his "please," and "thank you," and "if it wouldn't inconvenience you, Gojyo," Hakkai was as stubborn as rusty nails. And he wasn't going to let a little inconvenience like Gojyo force him out of the bed. 

_Well, fine,_ thought Gojyo. _I'm too drunk to care either._ And he fell asleep.

The alcohol fumes had only half burned off by the time he woke a few hours later. He couldn't remember where he was, but he must've scored, because here he was with his arm around someone. He took a quick glance out the window with bleary eyes; still plenty of time till dawn. Good. He could go back to sleep for a little while longer. 

He snuggled closer to the woman, whoever she was, and her warmth. Nothing like a warm back to keep you toasty in bed. Only that was strange...she had a shirt on, pajama pants too. Come to think of it, he was still in his boxers. Eh, whatever. It wasn't like he'd want any more action tonight. 

Still, that didn't mean he couldn't have some fun. He carefully slid his hand beneath the hem of the woman's shirt and was disconcerted to find first air, and then hard smooth muscle under his palm where he was used to finding soft, pillowy breast. 

Gojyo's beer-addled brain chose that moment to remind him of the evening's past events. 

Hakkai.

Oh _shit_. 

_Well,_ he thought bemusedly. _**That's** probably the fastest I've ever sobered up._

He lay still for a few endless, tense minutes, and listened to Hakkai's soft breathing. It was slow, even. Good. Hakkai wasn't awake, and had no idea that Gojyo was...cuddling...with him.

Gojyo sighed, settled back into mattress, deliberately relaxed each muscle in turn: calves, thighs, abdomen, biceps. He curved his right arm beneath his head, rested his temple against it; lying this way with his face just inches from the back of Hakkai's head he could smell the clean shampoo-and-hard-water scent of Hakkai's hair. The pillow was feather soft and plump under his face. His left arm was still looped loosely around Hakkai's warm torso, his fingers skimmed lightly across Hakkai's skin. The mattress dipped and rose with each deep, even breath Hakkai drew.

 _I could fall back asleep like this,_ Gojyo thought hazily.

And it wasn't _that_ strange, really, to be in bed with another guy—Hakkai wasn't awake to be bothered by it, and it wasn't as if Gojyo was _going_ for him, or anything. The territory covered by Gojyo's circling fingers expanded slightly and he fidgeted again, trying to get the right amount of give out of the mattress.

And anyway, this slow, light caressing of skin, this was how you got to sleep with ... whichever girl you happened to be with, and it had the same effect, he noted bemusedly, even if it was Hakkai and not some girl. 

And this was not like _that_ , not at all, but it was interesting nonetheless, the familiar sensation of soft, warm skin under his fingertips, but here it was all flat, smooth muscle where he was used to finding soft female skin, maybe with a hint of the inviting pudginess women always seemed to think they had too much of.

It was relaxing, this... This touching without the loaded silence that screamed, "I'm waiting for you to tell me what I want to hear," without the fear that someone would roll back over and expect you to perform again, or try to talk you about love and "being together," without all of those reactions he'd come to fear so desperately from women as much as he loved what they could do for him. But this was not some woman he'd met at a bar. This was Hakkai, whom he'd known for years and who didn't really expect anything from him. 

Gojyo yawned, stretched as best he could. The bed really was too small for two people, but he'd planned it like that—it got women out that much sooner after he was finished with them. He yawned again, muzzy and half-asleep, and his fingers slowed, dipped lower. _You better cut this out before you fall asleep again_ , his mind told him. But...what was that?

Warm, like skin, but rubbery like skin wasn't, usually...

The scar. _Oh, shit, Hakkai, Oh god, I'm sorry._

Gojyo jerked his hand up, away, hoping Hakkai hadn't noticed, hadn't woken up. He was sure Hakkai would wake up—Hakkai could barely stand to touch the thing, even through his clothes. Gojyo had watched Hakkai sometimes, out of the corner of his eyes or reflected in a darkened window, as he tried scratching an itch that was too close to...it. The way he'd flinch back from his own touch, the look on his face... 

But unbelievably, he hadn't woken Hakkai after all. Gojyo chuckled softly into the pillow, a chuckle that turned into another uncontrolable yawn. Hakkai was going to sleep through anything tonight. He could probably _will_ himself into not waking up or something, just to spite Gojyo—Gojyo wouldn't put it past him. 

Well, that was fine with him. He was getting to spend the night in his own bed, after all, and if Hakkai was too tired to fidget in his sleep, so much the better. 

Perhaps it was because he was tired, or perhaps it was because he was still a little drunker than he thought he was, but curiosity got the better of him. Instead of rolling onto his other side and going back to sleep, he waited, making _absolutely sure_ that Hakkai was asleep, then slowly begain to trace the outline of the scar.

He'd never seen it before. Hakkai always wore a shirt—even when it was so humid you could barely breathe, even to bed—and wouldn't undress in front of him. He'd known what the wound looked like the first few days and weeks after, but as soon as Hakkai could sit up and dress it himself, he'd made Gojyo turn around. Leave the apartment, at first, until Gojyo had sworn that he wouldn't look. 

Well, he figured, this was okay. He wasn't _looking_ at it, after all. But god, that thing... It was _massive_. One long slash running from the middle of Hakkai's abdomen down to the pelvis, the flesh puckering up from both sides, fine veins of scar tissue tracing delicate lines toward its center. Gojyo traced his fingers along the scar's outer edge until it dipped into the waistline of Hakkai's sweatpants, then ran his fingers along the elastic until he found the scar's other edge, traced it back up to its origin. 

He made a few more revolutions, then flattened his palm across the center of Hakkai's abdomen. Hakkai's skin was warm against the skin of his palm, the scar a strange incongruity amidst the smooth, muscular expanse of Hakkai's body. He played his thumb along the lower edge of the scar.

He wasn't sure how he knew. But he knew, suddenly, that Hakkai was awake. That he had been awake for some time now. Awake while Gojyo had been...

 _Shit. Hakkai, I wasn't gonna... I wasn't trying to...or anything._

And he hadn't been, either. He lay absolutely still, like a small animal just realizing it's been spotted by something larger. He was barely breathing. Neither was Hakkai. Slowly, carefully, he began to pull his hand away. 

Hakkai's hand closed around his own. Gojyo almost choked on his own tongue. 

_Shit. Shit, Hakkai, I didn't I wasn't I'm sorry I didn't mean don't think that I was I didn't mean anything I wasn't trying to..._

His headache came pounding back. It wasn't right. Wasn't fair. Hakkai must think he'd been trying to...but he _hadn't_ been trying to... But saying that would only make it look even worse. What the hell had he been thinking? That Hakkai wouldn't be weirded out? That he wouldn't wake up and notice? 

_He_ would have damn well woken up and noticed, if the tables had been turned. And now...

If Hakkai got out of the bed or made him get out of the bed, or, Jesus Christ, worse yet, _said_ something, he would never, ever be able to look at himself in the mirror again. _Jesus_ he thought, _Don't let him say anything._

It was one thing to be the target of Hakkai's politely poisonous barbs when he did something stupid, because he usually knew beforehand that the stuff he was doing was stupid. But this, this was not like that, he hadn't been trying to be stupid and if Hakkai thought that ( _oh god, don't let him think that_ ) Gojyo'd been trying to... The things that would come out of his mouth. 

His heart was pounding along with his head. _Shit, Hakkai, I didn't mean...I wasn't going to..._ He tried again to pull his hand away, _Look, I'll just put it here, under your shoulders or no, I'll put it behind me near the wall and just don't say anything and..._

But the harder Gojyo tried to move his hand away, the harder Hakkai's grip tightened. _No, Hakkai, don't, I'll move it myself, don't_ force _me to move it, leave me that dignity at least._ But Hakkai was as stubborn as rusty nails as when he wanted to be, and this was one of those moments. Gojyo continued trying to pry his hand free from Hakkai's grip, and Hakkai fought back pound for pound. The room was silent save for the sound of their breathing, and the occasional whir of the cooling fan in the refrigerator.

_Fine._

_Fine,_ thought Gojyo. _Fine. You win. You always do when you want to make your point._ He relaxed his grip and waited, eyes shut, for Hakkai to push his hand away. It took a moment for him to realize that Hakkai had not been fighting his grip itself, just the movement of his arm toward Hakkai's shoulders.

Because, after Gojyo had stopped resisting him, Hakkai's hand had guided Gojyo's beneath the elastic hem of his sweatpants, and...

It took another moment for Gojyo's mind to register the wiry brush of hair against the sensitive skin of his wrist. And yet another for Gojyo's mind to register what his own fingers had been curled around.

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh there was no way. No _way_ that Hakkai could be serious.

His hand closed lightly, experimentally, around Hakkai's penis.

And he felt it shiver, ever so slightly, as if in anticipation.

Oh. Oh, there was no _way_. No _way_ that Hakkai would have woken up and mistaken Gojyo's...drunken...groping for.... And _no way_ that he would have reacted like this.

And yet, when Gojyo gave a small, swift tug, because there was nothing else to do, really, Hakkai gasped and bucked ever so slightly into Gojyo's touch. And when Gojyo tried again, swifter this time, harder, Hakkai's reaction was suitably intensified. By the third pull Hakkai was completely hard, warm, pulsing in Gojyo's hand. He wasn't waiting for Gojyo anymore, either. The bedsprings creaked slightly with each quick, tight thrust of Hakkai's hips. 

Gojyo bit back the sensation of queasy half-panic that was slowly building in the pit of his stomach. He didn't _do_ this with guys, with _Hakkai_ no less—yet here he was with his hand around Hakkai's dick and Hakkai's broad back, t-shirt now damp with sweat, pressed against his chest, and Hakkai's tight buttocks rubbing rhythmically against his— No. 

Hakkai was moaning now, soft, throaty gasps, and Gojyo felt his own balls tighten in response. No. No way. Not with _Hakkai_. But when he tried to take his hand away, the noise Hakkai made was so...needy...that he immediately replaced it. And strangely enough, his own pulse was racing now, roaring in his ears, and my god, as much as he fought it, he wanted to do it more. Because he'd done this sort of thing for women before, but this was so different because unlike with women, he _knew_ how each long stroke of his hand felt, knew how hot and tight and sweaty-good the skin of his palm felt, because this was what he did for himself.

He circled his thumb around the slit, toyed with the foreskin a little bit and was rewarded by another soft groan from Hakkai. Hakkai, who apparently liked it the same way Gojyo liked it, so he threw his leg over Hakkai's thighs and forced him to hold still and take it, and then he drew his hand to the base of Hakkai's cock and let Hakkai do the work. Hakkai's right hand was clenched tightly in the pillow by his forehead, kneading the threadbare pillowcase, his left caressing Gojyo's wrist and arm as Gojyo worked his fingers around Hakkai's cock.

Gojyo snaked his free arm between Hakkai's shoulder and the bed and pulled Hakkai closer so that he could taste the sweaty skin of Hakkai's neck. Hakkai moaned and arched into his embrace, hips grinding into Gojyo, bumping painfully against his own erection, and suddenly Gojyo couldn't take it anymore and he pulled Hakkai onto his knees and raised both of his hands to caress the slick, hot skin of Hakkai's torso. 

Hakkai spooned himself into Gojyo's body, hands frantic against Gojyo's, pressing them down, down, back down. Gojyo tore them free once more and twisted his fingers against the waistband of Hakkai's sweatpants, pulled them down as far as they could go before the spread of Hakkai's thighs stopped him. And then Hakkai's hands had closed over his once more and Gojyo found his fingers curled yet again around Hakkai's cock, Hakkai's fingers curled over Gojyo's, showing Gojyo just how he liked it.

"Yeah," Gojyo rasped into Hakkai's neck, and then he couldn't take it any longer and he was thrusting wildly into Hakkai's hips, his erection, long since freed from his own boxers, jarring painfully against unyeilding muscle until it slipped between Hakkai's thighs. And even that was maddening, because there was heat and friction, but none of the _wet_ that he needed and was used to, and yet oh it felt good. 

Hakkai overbalanced, fell down onto hands and knees, and Gojyo followed, pushed Hakkai's t-shirt up as far as it would go and collapsed onto Hakkai's sweaty back. He braced one hand against the mattress, fingers entwined with Hakkai's, and brought the other around Hakkai's waist until he could grip Hakkai's cock and hold Hakkai's hips steady against his own dick. He was working Hakkai as hard as he'd ever worked any woman, and Hakkai was gasping—gasping _his name_ —and the pressure was building, building, oh right there so good don't stop now and it was spiraling out from the base of his spine, come slicking Hakkai's thighs and he could feel Hakkai's juice pulsing out over his palm and it was so damn hot and perfect and good.

He let the sparks clear from his eyes and gave a few last, loving pulls on Hakkai's dick before they both collapsed onto the bed, spent and panting. Eventually they got up, used the sheets and Gojyo's discarded shirt to clean off, dragged themselves across the room and collapsed onto the futon. 

Gojyo stayed in bed long after he heard Hakkai get up and set about making breakfast. He figured he could pretend to be extremely hung over, which wouldn't be terribly far from the truth, except that his headache was not _just_ a liquor headache. 

_Christ_ , he thought. _Never,_ ever _again._ And then, _What the_ fuck _did I **do?**_ He rolled over and tried to act like he was asleep and had no idea that Hakkai was currently heating water for tea.

But then, pretending was difficult when he could hear ever tiny sound Hakkai made, his hangover magnifying the slightest ruffle of cellophane to earsplitting proportions. _Fuck this,_ he thought, and sat up so quickly his head pounded and the room spun wildly about him. _**Fuck. This.** Do it now while you've still got the guts, bastard._

"Hakkai, look," he said, squinting until a vaguely Hakkai-shaped form became visible near the sink.

"Mm?" said the Hakkai-shaped form, twisting slightly to regard Gojyo.

"Jesus," Gojyo muttered. The words _I had my hands on your_ dick _last night_ flashed through his thoughts.

"Jesus," he tried again, more loudly this time. "Look, about last night..." And then ran out of things to say. 

It was Hakkai who saved them both from the oppressive silence. "I would have thought," he said conversationally, as if they had been talking about the weather, "that you'd be much better at dealing with awkward mornings after, given the amount of prior experience you've had." And then he smiled his usual 'Good morning, Gojyo' smile, as if to drive the point home.

Gojyo gaped at him for a moment, head spinning, before it all hit him. This was his last morning in his house. The bastard monk and his pet would be here in a few hours to collect them and take them off to god knew where. Heaven wanted him, Sha Gojyo, to fight youkai. He'd _got off_ with _Hakkai_ a few hours before. And the ultimate insult to injury—he'd still ended up sleeping on the fucking futon. He fell back into the pillows and laughed until his head hurt too much to continue.


End file.
